


I'll Be Here

by danehemmings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cancer, Gen, Mentions of Cancer, hello teen wolf fandom sorry you have been cursed with my presence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6233752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danehemmings/pseuds/danehemmings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, Scott isn't gay. Its not that he has a problem with Danny, or with any LBTQ person he's ever met. He believes everyone has a right to be happy. Its just – he isn't gay. He loves Allison.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>Stiles has been acting strange. Scott hadn't noticed right away, and he feels rather awful about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Here

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know what happened here, because I definitely did not mean for this to be sad or angsty.  
> Anyways, sorry for any mistakes you find.

The thing is, Scott isn't gay. Its not that he has a problem with Danny, or with any LBTQ person he's ever met. He believes everyone has a right to be happy. Its just – he isn't gay. He loves Allison. 

But Stiles, Stiles is gay. Or bi, or just- he's definitely not straight. It wasn't something Scott ever noticed, before. But now he's got these heightened senses, and all this new information about what people are feeling, and he notices. He can't zone out in class, not like he used to, and so he notices when Stiles stares at him. When their changing in the locker room, and the scent of arousal reaches his nostrils, Scott pretends not to notice. 

Because he shouldn't know these things about his best friend. It feels invasive, like he's reading Stiles' diary or something. And Stiles clearly doesn't think he has a chance with Scott. Its evident in those times Scott has his arms around Allison in the halls, and he takes a deep breath and all he can pick up is this weird, agonizing sadness coming from Stiles. Like he knows Scott can't ever love Stiles in the way that he wants. 

He feels guilty, but at the same time, he can't change that part of himself, just to make his friend happy. And he wouldn't want to if he could anyways. He loves Allison. But he doesn't want to hurt Stiles, because Stiles is his best friend, his brother, and Scott would be lost without him. Not lost; dead.

Its too late though. The closer Scott becomes with Allison, the more sullen Stiles becomes. He keeps up the cheerful act around everyone, and Scott probably would have bought it, back before he was a werewolf. He can't buy it now, not when he can literally smell Stiles' emotions. Its more than terrifying, how quickly his friend spirals downward. Or maybe Scott is still trapped inside his own little world, too focused on Allison.

One day, he gets all the way through first period before he realizes Stiles isn't there. He calls him, but there's no answer. He leaves a message, something like 'Dude, why aren't you here? Do you need my help; are you sick? I love you bro' .

He waits until second period ends, and then he walks out of the building and makes his way to Stiles' house. He knocks on the door. No answer. Scott circles the house until he's standing below Stiles' window. He finds a rock, throws it, lightly, against the glass. He waits. Still no answer. He pulls his phone from his pocket, and holds on the one button. It goes straight to voicemail.

“Stiles, dude, let me in. I just want to make sure you're alive in there, alight? I'll break in if I have to.”

Scott stares at his phone for a few minutes, hoping for some sort of response. He's just decided he going to have to break down the front door when he hears it pop open. He jogs back around to the front of the house. Stiles is leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed protectively over his chest.

“I'm fine. Just a bad headache.”

He's lying. He smells like anxiety, but worse than Scott's ever smelt before. Scott feels his worry double, “Did you have a panic attack?”

“No, Scott, I'm fine.” Stiles repeats. He looks anything but. There are bags underneath his eyes, bad enough to make Scott wonder if he's slept at all in the past week. He curses himself for being such a shitty friend. He's gone to Allison's everyday after school this week. Probably last week too.

“Listen,” Scott says, “I'm sorry I've been basically ignoring you lately. I'm shit, I-”

“Scott!” Stiles pushes himself off of the door frame, a brief flash of anger flitting across his face, “I'm fine, okay? I'm fine.” He's careful to enunciate the words, as if that will make Scott believe him.

Scott can tell Stiles is anxious, tired, and angry. Something else, too, that he can't quite put his finger on. “You're not. Werewolf, remember?” He gestures at himself, “I can tell when you're lying to me.”

Stiles gives him an exasperated look, “Okay, I'm not fine. I'm feeling pretty fucking shitty right now, but it has absolutely nothing to do with you, alright? So please leave me alone.” 

Scott thinks Stiles maybe lost some weight. Maybe a lot of weight. He really looks horrible. How hadn't Scott picked up on this shit? He'd been keeping an eye on Stiles, because he didn't want his friend to feel like he wasn't important to him. But the last few weeks, things had been so great with Allison...and he'd really fucked up. 

What Stiles had said; he wasn't lying. His heart rate didn't change. There was no possible way Stiles' feelings for him would end up with him having a week of sleepless nights. No way. It was something else, something Stiles didn't feel comfortable telling Scott.

“I don't want to leave you alone if you're not feeling well, Stiles.” Scott doesn't care if Stiles doesn't want to talk about whatever this is yet, but he doesn't look to be doing so well on his own.

“I'm not,” Stiles is wary, as if he's passing Scott an explosive, “My dad's going to be home in an hour.”

Stiles told the Sheriff about this, but not Scott. It makes sense, that Stiles would trust his own father with what's bothering him, but Scott still feels an irrational stab of pain in his chest. Stiles hasn't even told the Sheriff about the supernatural yet. Scott is supposed to be his number one confidant. He pushes those thoughts away.

“Let me stay at least until he comes,” Scott says, “You don't have to tell me whatever's bothering you, alright? We can sit in silence, if you'd like.”

Stiles debates this for a moment, before stepping back into the house with a sigh of defeat. Scott follows him inside with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It fades rather quickly when he sees the plethora of pill bottles strewn all about the living room. He watches as Stiles flops down onto the couch with a wince of pain. His phone buzzes, but he ignores it. Whoever it is, Allison, his mom; they could wait.

He sinks down beside his friend and reaches a hand out to cover Stiles' and take the pain away. Stiles pulls his hand away with a shake of his head.

“I was promised sitting and silence, not non-consensual pain-sucking.” He gives Scott a tight smile.

Scott folds his hands together and tries to stop the worry from building anymore in his chest, “Yeah, but you don't do silence.”

“I've turned over a new leaf.” He stretches, sinking further into the cushions and nearly laying his head on Scott's shoulder, before realizing himself and resting against the armrest instead. 

They actually do sit in silence for a few minutes. Scott stares at his knees while Stiles' eyes flicker about the room, from the blank tv screen, to the pill bottles, to Scott, to the blankets that seem to have been thrown across the room. The tv remote is on the floor as well. Scott can picture Stiles angrily chucking any and all objects near him around the room. That's probably what happened. He wonders if Stiles has to take those pills everyday. He dreads to think about what it means when someone requires so much medication for one single day.

Stiles is shivering. Scott gets up to grab the blankets. He hands them to Stiles as he sits back down, and gets a glare in return. But Stiles wraps the blankets around himself, all three of them. Scott waits for Stiles to speak, to say something to ease the tension he's feeling. Stiles starts to snore instead. Scott smiles fondly at his friend. Stiles shivers. Three blankets, and he's still shivering. Scott feels fear bubble up inside him, but he ignores it. He pulls Stiles into his arms and holds his friend’s hands until he stops shaking from the cold. He sighs and closes his eyes. 

He must fall asleep, because the next time he opens his eyes the Sheriff sitting in an armchair across from him. Stiles has snuggled close to him, and his head rests against Scott's chest. Scott finds that he doesn't really mind as much as he should. 

The Sheriff looks exhausted. He's picked up all the pill bottles from the floor. They're lined up neatly on the coffee table. There's a glass of water next to them. Scott guesses Stiles hasn't taken any yet today. The Sheriff has his head in his hands, but he looks up as Scott gently disentangles himself from Stiles. He rubs at his eyes and gives Scott an attempt of a smile. It ends up as a grimace. He motions towards the kitchen.

They sit down at the table, and the Sheriff rubs at his eyes again. He's been crying, Scott realizes. This thing wrong with Stiles, it just keeps getting worse and worse.   
“Has he been puking?” The Sheriff asks, breaking the quiet that had settled over them.

“No,” Scott answers, brow creasing, “Does he usually?”

“That's part of what cancer does to you, Scott.” The Sheriff sighs, oblivious to the fact that he had shattered Scott's whole world with one word.

“Cancer?” He swallows a sob, “Benign or terminal?” He knew the answer.

The Sheriff is surprised. He must've thought Stiles had told him. “Terminal.”

Cancer. It made sense. It explained Stiles' decaying appearance. But at the same time, it didn't make any sense at all. Stiles, his best friend in this fucked up world, his fucking brother, had cancer? No. Ridiculous. Stiles Stilinski was way above something as simple and cliché as cancer. The only danger Stiles was supposed to be in was the danger of the latest battle against the supernatural, a battle in which Scott could help him, could save him. Scott couldn't save Stiles from cancer, not like he can save Stiles from a werewolf or kanima. 

“I'm sorry,” The Sheriff sighs, “I assumed he'd told you. You guys had been spending so much time together, and he'd stopped talking to me...”

“No, that was – that was something different, I – I mean,” Scott curses himself again. How long had Stiles known? Why didn't he want to tell Scott? He bites his lip as he asks the most important question, “How long does he have?”

Tears fill the Sheriff's eyes, but he wipes them away and takes a deep breath, “Three months. Maybe four, if he's lucky, and if he takes all his medication. But he doesn't want to take it. And if he stops taking it then, then there's not much time at all.”

Scott sucks in a sharp breath and tries to hold in tears. How had he not noticed? How? Was he really this much of a shitty friend? There's a noise from the living room. Stiles is awake. Scott jumps up and rushes to him. Stiles is bleary-eyed and looks confused as Scott barrels into the room and pulls him into a hug. He stands still for a moment, and then reciprocates.

“He told you, didn't he?” Stiles mumbles into Scott's shirt, “That's why I didn't want you to stay.”

“I should've already known, Stiles,” He hugs his friend tightly, “I'm so sorry. For everything. I'm going to spend every damn day with you, from here on out, okay? Every damn day. You're my brother. I'm not letting you deal with this on your own anymore.”

They pull away from each other, and sit back down on the couch. Scott notes that the Sheriff hasn't come in after him. Probably to give them some privacy. 

“I've been doing a pretty good job on my own, Scott.” A sad smile stretches across Stiles' face.

“You don't need to do everything by yourself. I know I haven't been around lately, but I'm here now, so you're just going to have to deal with me.”

“It hurts, Scott,” Scott reaches for Stiles' hand, but he shakes his head, “No, not like that. Its like, I always knew you didn't think about me in the same way I think about you, you know?” Stiles moves his gaze to the floor. “I accepted it or whatever, because I want you to be happy. But I'm dying, and it just feels so unfair right now, that I can't even be with the one person who really matters and - “ He shakes his head again, “It's fucked up.”

“I'm sorry,” Scott puts a hand over Stiles' despite his protests. There's not a lot of pain to take in the moment, but Scott takes it anyways, and he keeps holding on even after all the pain is gone.

“No, I am,” Stiles says, sagging into the couch, “I'm taking out my anger on you. I can't really get mad at you for being straight as an arrow, Scott.” 

The corner of Scott's mouth twitches upwards in what might've been a smile had they been in a different situation. He sobers up quickly though, as a sudden sharp pain courses through Stiles. He grips his hand more tightly and takes it all away. “Derek would give you the bite, Stiles, if you asked.”

When Stiles' meets his eyes, Scott feels his own eyes well up with tears. “You know I don't want that. And anyways, I think its too late for that. I'm too weak.”  
“You could've-” Scott cuts himself off, “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first hundred times,” Stiles pulls his had out of Scott's grasp, “But you're here now, or whatever, and I think I can stop being pissy just long enough to die, so how about we move on and play COD like in the good old days?”

“Sure,” Scott says, wiping at his eyes, “Just, take your medication, please?”

Stiles opens his mouth to protest, but he pauses at Scott's pleading expression. He directs his gaze to the bottles on the coffee table. He sighs. He glances at Scott. “I really don't want to.” 

Scott bites his lips, and opens them to say, 'okay', because this is Stiles' life, and so its Stiles' choice, but then Stiles is opening a bottle and grabbing the glass of water, and Scott reaches out to stop him, “Don't do it just for me.” 

He regrets speaking instantly, because Stiles sets the pills and the water down. He takes a few deep breaths and afterwords he swallows the pills. When he's taken one from every bottle, he smiles at Scott and says, “I love you, okay? I'd do anything for you.”

Scott finally lets his tears fall as he gently pulls Stiles into another hug.

**Author's Note:**

> daneshemmings.tumblr.com


End file.
